Fighting Dumbledore
by SevereInsomnia
Summary: Dumbledore’s allegiance to the Order and the Light was never questioned. But what better way to consolidate your power than to pretend to be fighting evil yourself?
1. Betrayal

**Fighting Dumbledore**

**Summary: **Dumbledore's allegiance to the Order and the Light was never questioned. But what better way to consolidate your power than to pretend to be fighting evil yourself?

**Genre: **General / Action

**Rating: **K+

_**Includes: **_references to some information from HB-P, especially in the beginning of the fanfic, but few spoilers. This fanfic is AU to HB-P and DH, and assumes that Sirius Black survived the encounter in OotP.

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter and all related information are copyright J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I earn nothing from this fanfiction save my own enjoyment and my readers'.

* * *

"What does Dumbledore want to talk to you about, Harry? Did he say?" Hermione asked him from her chair in front of the common room fireplace.

"I dunno. Something about Voldemort, I guess." Harry said. Ron jumped at the mention of the name, scattering his collection of Chocolate Frog cards onto the threadbare carpet. Harry pretended not to notice.

"I hope so. We could really do with something," said Hermione, scratching Crookshanks behind the ears. The cat curled up in her lap and purred.

Almost everyone was still at dinner, and they had the common room to themselves. The three of them had left the Great Hall early and had been planning to visit Hagrid; when the note had arrived from Dumbledore asking Harry to come up to his office at eight, the other two had been disappointed but had decided to continue with their plans. Harry was impatient to see Hagrid, whom they had not visited yet this term, but he was excited to hear what Dumbledore might have discovered about the Death Eaters.

Hermione glanced up at the clock. "Hagrid should be finished with dinner by now," she said. "Shall we meet you there, Harry?"

"Sure," said Harry. "If I don't make it to Hagrid's, I'll meet you back here."

His friends nodded and stepped out of the portrait hole. Harry watched them go, then sank back in his chair and sorted through the items he'd got in Fred and George's shop, waiting for eight o'clock to come. He'd finally caved in and taken some merchandise, but he'd avoided the jokes section. Instead, Harry had picked up a handful of Decoy Detonators (one of which escaped and Harry had to chase it under the sofa) and a bag of Instant Darkness Powder. When it was a quarter to the hour, Harry stuck the package into his pocket and hurried out of the common room.

The corridors were still quiet, although on the fifth floor Peeves was doing target practice with cream pies and by dodging, Harry only barely managed to escape untouched. As he passed by the fourth floor windows looking out into the darkening grounds, he craned his head to look for lights in Hagrid's house. If this meeting went quickly, he could hurry down and still spend some time with Hagrid, Ron and Hermione.

He said "Every-Flavor Beans" to the stone gargoyle and rode the moving staircase to Dumbledore's office door, which quite unusually was already open.

"Ah, Harry," said Dumbledore, looking up from a pile of paperwork when Harry knocked on the doorframe. "Come in. I'd like to talk to you about something."

"Have you found anything out about the Death Eaters, sir?" Harry asked eagerly, closing the door and taking the seat offered him in front of Dumbledore's desk.

"What I have to tell you is rather more important," said Dumbledore, waving this away.

"More important than fighting Voldemort, sir?" said Harry incredulously.

"Voldemort and his Death Eaters," said Dumbledore with a small smile, "Are no longer something you need worry yourself over. Their time has come and gone. Ours, however, is just beginning."

"What did you find out, Professor?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Nothing. I have had the knowledge all along."

Harry opened his mouth, astonished, but Dumbledore raised a hand. "Later, Harry, later. We have much more important things to discuss."

"But surely—" Harry began.

"_Later_, I said. There will be plenty of time for discussion after you have made your decision. I daresay it will be an easy one."

"What do you mean?" said Harry, rather thrown. The note hadn't mentioned anything about a decision.

"Your allegiance is very important to me. I have a great many things planned, but you will be the vessel for them to happen. I need your help. The Wizarding world needs _our_ help. I need to know you support me, Harry."

"You mean against Voldemort." said Harry slowly. Something about this conversation was odd. This didn't sound like the Dumbledore he knew.

"No, Harry," sighed Dumbledore, "I'm talking about more important problems. Please pay attention."

"All right, what's wrong?" said Harry, feeling rather annoyed. What could possibly be more important than the Order?

"Everything. And the Ministry of Magic could not be guiltier for it. Their organization is a mess. They harass part-humans and look down on Muggleborns and those who sympathize with them, like your friend Mr. Weasley and his father. Rita Skeeter runs around loose, even after that fiasco two years ago. And I'm sure I don't need to remind you what happened last year with the _Prophet_ and Dolores Umbridge."

Harry felt his face flush. Dumbledore did not need to remind him of that.

"Quite," said the Headmaster, nodding at his expression. "Don't you see? The Ministry needs to be shaken up a bit."

"Well…" Harry began uncomfortably. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at him.

"Well, yeah, it does," Harry said slowly. "But isn't it sorted out already? Fudge already admitted we were right, what else is there?"

"Oh, I agree they've finally seen the error in what they were doing last year, but believe me, the lesson will not last," said Dumbledore. "They forget soon enough if they think they'll gain something from it."

Harry shrugged. He couldn't see where the conversation was heading. "I don't know, Professor."

"The Ministry is crumbling. Once we had real leaders, who knew what had to be done to lead our kind. Now all we have is the likes of Fudge and his minions, who will do anything to keep power. It's time we had a change of leadership."

"What did you have in mind?" Harry asked, uneasy. Dumbledore fixed him with a piercing stare over the top of his half-moon glasses.

"I'm going to take over the Ministry of Magic."

"_What?_"

Harry gaped at Dumbledore. Had he just heard correctly?

"They've had ample time to fix the problem," Dumbledore said, still in that same calm voice. "Now it's time we fixed it ourselves."

"But you can't do that!" Harry burst out.

"Can't I? I have the Wizarding world to back me, and the Order to fight for me. I don't see how the Ministry could possibly resist."

"That not the point! You _can't_. It goes against everything you've ever stood for!" Harry cried.

"When I take control, my ideals will be the order of the day," said Dumbledore calmly. "We will see them become reality together."

"What would be the point? Everything you stood for would already have been destroyed!"

"Ah, but I have a solution for that, Harry," said Dumbledore, raising a finger. "You. People follow you, and if you lead the way, everything will be less messy all around." He looked at Harry with his bright blue eyes. "What do you say, Harry? Will you join me?"

Harry suddenly realized he'd jumped out of his chair. Chest heaving, he glared at Dumbledore. He couldn't believe this. It couldn't be happening; he did not want it to happen! And yet Dumbledore was serious, he couldn't possibly be joking, and now he was watching Harry with a small smile on his face, waiting for him to answer.

"You can't possibly be serious," scoffed Harry. "Why don't you just run for Minister?"

"Because it's not just the Minister, it's the whole institution. I need free reign, and the position isn't nearly as all-powerful as it appears. But when I take over, why…I might just see my way clear to sack a certain Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, who has proven time and again her hatred of part-humans and her dislike for Harry Potter. Join me, Harry."

Harry stared into Dumbledore's blue eyes, and marveled at how guiltless they looked. He was amazed at how much their owner now reminded him of someone else, someone with quite different eyes and a penchant for killing people. Someone this man had sworn he would fight against. What had happened?

"Why this?" he snarled. "Why now?"

"Dear boy, I've had this planned for a long time," said Dumbledore kindly. "Recently the Ministry has proven their incompetence amazingly well. Now is simply the best time to strike. So for the last time," he said, "Will you join me?"

"You were right, _Albus_," snarled Harry. "It _was_ an easy decision."

Dumbledore's face became impassive. When he next spoke, there was a new edge to his voice.

"You don't want to fight me, Harry."

"Don't I?" Harry spat at him. He stuck his hand into his pocket for his wand and felt his fingers brush up against paper. "To me, you're just another Voldemort."

Dumbledore eyes narrowed. "I am nothing like Riddle," he said coldly. "I am much _better _at being evil."

"Yeah, I suppose people just scream when you offer them a lemon drop. Been practicing, have you?" Harry mocked him. He carefully tried to undo the wrapping in his pocket.

"Oh, I won't have to hurt anyone, not now, anyway," said Dumbledore with a smile. "I have you to blame for everything."

"What?" said Harry, distracted.

"Yes, I'll just tell them you're trying to take over the Ministry and I have to take control to make sure you don't succeed," Dumbledore mused. "It's quite brilliant, really. Everyone will believe me, but who will believe the Boy Who Lived? Hasn't he already proven he's a Parselmouth and has a soft spot for half-breeds? He's been a Dark Lord in the making, right under our noses. You haven't exactly been the poster child people have expected you to be."

"Doesn't matter," snapped Harry, though secretly Dumbledore had a point. "No one's going to let you take over the Ministry."

"Are you sure? They've offered me the job as Minister several times. I'll just accept, but with…benefits."

"Then I'll fight you," said Harry, his fingers finally undoing the paper. He curled his hand around the smaller packet inside.

"With what army? And I hope you'll pardon the cliché. But the Order has been in my pocket longer than you've known them, even your godfather, and they listen to me. As for Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger—well, Weasley's whole family is in the Order, and Granger can see reason better than most people, she'll realize her mistake in time, and wish she'd never known you at all.

"So you see this discussion is quite pointless," said Dumbledore, standing up. "If you come quietly with me to Azkaban, I will only charge you with use of the Unforgivable Curses, and forget this has ever happened. Who knows, maybe I will feel charitable enough to pardon you when I come to power. Come along, Harry."

"I don't think so," said Harry determinedly. "You'll have to fight me first."

Harry pulled out the packet of Instant Darkness Powder and turned it out on the office floor. Great billowing clouds of black smoke rose up in an instant, but not before Harry saw Dumbledore plunge his hand into his robes for his wand.

He spun and lunged for where he knew the office door was and fumbled for the handle. He found it and wrenched the door open, sprinting down the stairs as Dumbledore shouted some curse from behind him. A jet of silver light streaked over his head and shattered against the opposite wall. Harry leaped out into the corridor and raced for the stairs, his heart pounding in his chest. He could hear Dumbledore's muffled swearing as the man fought his way through the darkness until the stone gargoyle jumped back into place.

Harry couldn't believe his luck when he found no one else in the corridors or in front of the portrait hole. Of course, most people would still be at dinner. Had it really been only a few moments ago that he'd left Ron and Hermione, still friends?

"Courage!" he gasped at the painting, and he scrambled inside and into the common room. He dashed up the stairs to the boy's dormitory and hurriedly threw everything of his he could reach into his trunk. Harry reached for Hedwig's cage, and then realized he'd never be able to get to the bird in time. He would have to leave the owl behind. Grabbing his trunk, Harry hurried back down the stairs to the common room.

"Harry, what's happened?" asked Neville as he dragged his trunk over to the fireplace. He looked around desperately.

"Isn't there any Floo powder?" he asked.

"My Gran gave me some for emergencies, but—"

"This is an emergency, Neville," Harry said. "I need it."

Neville turned pale, but he nodded and hurried upstairs. Harry fidgeted impatiently while he listened to him rummage around in the boys' dormitory. Finally Neville reappeared, carrying a small round tin.

"What's all this about, Harry?" he asked, handing it to Harry. For a moment, Harry was on the verge of telling him—but if Dumbledore had been right about one thing, it was that Harry couldn't trust anyone anymore. He nodded towards his trunk.

"Help me with this," said Harry firmly.

"Where are you going?" Neville asked as he helped Harry stand his trunk upright next to the fireplace.

"I can't tell you," Harry said.

"But Harry, I was in the DA, I can help," Neville insisted, looking hurt.

"No," said Harry. "You can't."

Harry dropped the Floo powder into the fireplace and dragged his trunk into the flames. He took a deep breath and shouted "The Dursleys!"

Harry turned back and looked at Neville for a moment before Neville—and the Gryffindor common room—spun out of sight.

* * *

**A/N:** Something a bit different than what you're used to, I hope. Reviews are very welcome.


	2. Level Six, Floo Network Authority

Harry, disoriented by the journey through the Floo Network, fell out flat on the hearthrug. His trunk tumbled out onto the floor next to him.

Nose into the carpeting, Harry was confused. This wasn't the Dursleys' hearthrug. It was brown and had a pattern of red and orange flames on it. The border surrounded a message with the letters weaved in yellow, and a pair of feet wearing high-heeled boots, which were not part of the hearthrug but part of another person. Harry dazedly raised his head a few inches and read the lettering: WELCOME TO THE FLOO NETWORK AUTHORITY. He thought he remembered the name from when he'd come to the Ministry for his hearing last year with Mr. Weasley. Then he raised his head higher and looked up at the owner of the feet.

She was a tall, thin witch in drab green robes and had dark hair, going gray, pulled back into a severe bun. Her hands were on her hips, and see was glaring down at him in a way that reminded him very much of Mrs. Weasley.

"Well?" she demanded. "Gotten lost, have you?"

"I—I suppose so," Harry managed, getting up. "This is the Ministry, isn't it?" She snorted.

"Where else would we be? You're in level six, the Department of Magical Transport, boy, Floo Network Authority. Says so on the rug," she added snappishly.

"S-sorry," said Harry, "I've never been here before."

"Well, I thought everyone knew about Floo Network Authority. If you get lost, or say something the network doesn't understand or try to go somewhere that isn't connected, this is where you end up. It's our job to get you going in the right direction, or give you fare for the Knight Bus to get home."

"That must be it," said Harry. "I don't think the fireplace is connected, they're Muggles. I forgot."

The witch rolled her eyes. "Of course you did. A fine mess you've made of it, then. I'm not sending you to Muggles on the Knight Bus, that's Ministry funds, that is." Her eyes narrowed. "Shouldn't you be at school?" she demanded.

"No," said Harry shortly. "I have to do something."

"Such as?" said the witch, glaring at him and leaning closer as though to inspect him better. Harry tried not to lean backwards.

"Something important," he said desperately, "really important."

"Oh, is it now?" she snapped.

"Please stop bothering the boy, Miss Farnham," said a weary voice from behind her. The woman turned and Harry saw a young man sitting at a desk, looking tired and put-upon. He turned the corners of his mouth up slightly at Harry. "I'm sure whatever it is, it's as important as he says."

The woman snorted, glared at Harry, and then swept away across the room. Harry let out a sigh of relief and looked around.

He was in a long room, and at his end the walls were completely taken up by several large fireplaces like the one he'd fallen out of. The other half of the room was taken up by a group of desks and a number of file cabinets that were overflowing with paper. The man, who had tousled brown hair and rumpled robes, was sitting at one of the closest desks, and there was a pile of parchment in front of him. Harry pulled his trunk up in front of the man's desk. The nameplate on it said ADRIAN HACKER, DIRECTIONS CONSULTANT.

The man sighed and put the paperwork down. He looked back up at Harry and gave him another small smile. "Please excuse Miss Farnham," he said, "She has never been a people person. So what can I do for you," his eyes followed the familiar path up to Harry's forehead, "Mr. Potter?"

"I need to get somewhere," said Harry. "Can I Apparate in here?"

"I'm afraid not," said Hacker. "After the incident a few months ago, the Minister had Apparation restricted to the Atrium only. We don't want any Death Eaters showing up unannounced," he added, with another twitch of his mouth.

"Right," said Harry, "How do I get there from here?" Hacker pointed to a door on Harry's right.

"Through that door, take a left down the hall, and take the next right," he said. "That'll take you to the lifts."

"Thanks," Harry said, grinning in relief. He picked up his trunk again and began pulling it towards the door. A whooshing sound from behind made him pause.

"Looks like we've got another one coming in," said Hacker from behind him. "Same fireplace too."

Harry turned to see the spinning figure in the fireplace. Through the flames, Harry could see whirls of white and silver, and with a horrible jolt in his stomach, he realized who it must be. He dragged his trunk as fast as he could towards the door and wrenched it open. A Stunning Spell ricocheted off the doorjamb, and Harry ducked. He pulled out his wand and shot a Jelly-Legs Jinx randomly back over his shoulder, then slammed the door behind him.

The corridors were quiet this time of night, and the only sounds Harry could hear were his own breathing and the commotion in the Floo Network Authority. He turned left and dragged his trunk along behind him, now rather wishing that he could afford to leave it behind. Still seeing no one, Harry took the next right, and found himself in front of the lift doors. He stabbed the down button with his thumb and turned to watch the hallway behind him.

At the same time he heard the lift doors open, he heard a door slam and someone come running along the corridor. He dashed into the lift and stabbed the button for the Atrium so hard he bruised his thumb. The doors shut, and he could still hear the muffled footsteps outside, and someone swore. A loud _thud_ echoed from the doors, and the lift started downward. Despite the situation, Harry's face cracked into a wicked grin. So, Dumbledore wasn't always so poised and collected, after all….

Harry fidgeted impatiently as the lift descended, moving far too slowly for his liking. Finally it shuddered to a halt and the doors opened. Harry hurried through the gates into the Atrium, which was empty except for the wizard at the security desk.

"Hey, where did you come from?" demanded the guard. "We're closed for today!"

"Okay. I'm just leaving," said Harry, stopping in front of the golden fountain. He noticed without surprise that it'd been repaired since his last visit. He concentrated, closing his eyes and clenching his fists around the handles of his trunk and his wand.

No one had been more surprised than Harry when he had Apparated on his first try during the Saturday evening courses. Hermione in particular had been quite put out that Harry had finally bested her at something, though her annoyance had diminished considerably after she had successfully Apparated during the third lesson. Ron had been asking them both for tips and advice long after he had first Apparated, because Susan Bone's splinching during the first lesson had worried him deeply. After getting used to the sensation, Harry found that he was naturally quite good at Apparation.

There was a _ding_ from the lifts behind Harry, and he stepped forward into black, smothering darkness.

* * *

Harry reappeared on a small patch of wet stone, on which he immediately slipped. He sat down heavily and looked up at the old fishing shack in front of him. It looked the same as when he and the Dursleys had stayed there in the summer before he started Hogwarts. The rock it sat on seemed smaller now, and much more slippery. Harry remembered the ceaseless ebb and flow of the water over the rock's edges. The fishing boat they'd come over on was missing, but that was fine by Harry; he wouldn't need it.

He stood up and brushed himself off, looking around. This was the best hiding place he could remember in all his years in the Wizarding world. It was as remote as it could get and far back enough in his past that it was unlikely Dumbledore would look here immediately. He was certain that the first place Dumbledore would look when he'd found Harry had Apparated would be the Order.

Harry dragged his trunk inside and went through the little shack, looking for signs of habitation. To his relief, it didn't look as though anyone had come here since the Dursleys. He could still see the blackened crisp bags they had burned poking through the ashes in the fireplace.

Harry sat down on the sagging sofa and kicked his trunk moodily. He was going to have to find a better way to carry his things around with him, because the trunk was far too clumsy to manage properly. He wasn't sure what he could do with it. He'd have to look at his spell books to see if there was some sort of shrinking charm he could use.

He got up and wandered into the only bedroom in the shack. Harry flopped down on top of the bed and rested his head on his arms.

His head was still spinning with the events of that evening. Part of him still didn't want to believe it. He'd trusted Dumbledore; he'd thought of him as an ally, as a sort of friend. Now he felt an empty hole in his chest, not just for Dumbledore, but for the Order as well. He'd been right, of course: Harry couldn't tell who to trust anymore, and he couldn't take a chance on anyone. _Not even_, he realized with a horrible empty feeling, _not even Ron and Hermione._

All this time, they'd thought they'd been fighting the Dark Lord. But now Harry realized they'd been helping the real enemy all along.

Harry didn't know how long he lay there on the moldy bed, staring at the damp ceiling. After a while, the sloshing of the ocean outside the shack lulled him into a doze, and Harry drifted off to sleep.

* * *

**A/N: **To my American readers, have a happy Thanksgiving!


	3. The Fishing Shack

**A/N:** I'm sorry I haven't been able to update this sooner. My plot gnome, Fred, ran off and gnomes can be _really _hard to find. He looks like he's settled down now, so hopefully this won't happen again.

This chapter has been been beta'd and Brit-picked by wellyuthink!

* * *

It was still dark when Harry opened his eyes and stared around the dingy bedroom. The shack was eerily quiet, with only the sounds of the waves washing across stone to break the silence. Harry adjusted his glasses and sat up, yawning. He sat and stared at nothing for a while, thinking hard, and then went out into the front room and scrabbled through his trunk. His fingers brushed against metal, and Harry pulled out the magic mirror Sirius had given him when he started Occlumency lessons. Harry polished the surface with his sleeve, staring at his reflection. Then he threw it into the fireplace, where it smashed. Harry stared at the shards numbly.

Nothing Dumbledore had ever told him could be trusted as the truth. And anyone that had ties to Dumbledore had to be treated as an enemy.

He turned and stared aimlessly around the shack, at a loss. He didn't know anyone who could help him, and he didn't even know what Dumbledore was up to. The Ministry was in danger of being compromised, and he knew that if he tried to warn them, they'd be no help at all.

He was jolted out of his reverie when someone rapped on the front door.

Harry jerked his head up, his heart pounding. He hadn't thought anyone would know about this place, except—Hagrid_. A member of the Order. _Harry cursed his own lack of judgment. He'd been stupid to think that he could still trust Hagrid, but he knew why he had. Part of him still didn't want to believe that the Order had turned against him.

Maybe it wasn't the Order. He doubted they'd bother to knock. Maybe it was some Muggle who got lost in his boat.

Whoever it was knocked again. Harry pulled out his wand and inched carefully towards the door, his hands shaking at his sides. His fingers gripped the worn brass knob, and he clenched his other hand around his wand. With a great breath, Harry opened the door a crack, and looked up into a pair of faces that were awfully familiar.

* * *

It was Ron and Hermione.

"Harry," said Hermione. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Come to try and kill me, have you?" he queried, the blood pounding in his ears. He made to close the door again.

"No!" said Ron loudly.

"Yeah, I really believe you," Harry snapped. "Only there's this thing about Dumbledore calling me the next Dark Lord, so sorry we seem to be on different sides now…." He started to shut the door again, but Ron stuck a foot in the gap.

"Listen to us, Harry."

"Why should I?" Harry snarled. "You'll spout a bunch of lies, just like Dumbledore."

"Harry, we were as shocked as you were!" cried Hermione. "How could he! That _bastard!_"

Harry and Ron turned to stare at her.

"Well done, Hermione," said Ron, awe in his voice.

"Well, don't you agree?" she demanded.

"Of course, but—"

"So what's the problem?"

"Oh, nothing," said Ron, raising his eyebrows at Harry.

"We aren't helping Dumbledore," said Hermione. "Did you honestly think we would?"

"Are you joking? I don't know who I can trust anymore."

"You can trust us, you _know_ that! We're your friends!" Harry stared at her, and she glared defiantly back.

Harry hesitated. "Well, how do I know it's you?" he asked finally.

"You like treacle tart," said Ron. He began counting on his fingers, as though ticking off a list. "You're the Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. In our first year you flew a broom during the challenges to get the Sorcerer's Stone. In fourth year, we came to get you for the Quidditch Cup, and Fred and George gave your cousin a sweet that turned his tongue purple and made it grow a foot long."

"You want to be an Auror," added Hermione. "You dated Cho Chang in our fifth year."

"And you hate Divination," finished Ron. "Remember when we were making up those predictions in the common room?"

Harry laughed. "I remember. That's quite a list," he added admiringly.

"Can we come in?" Hermione asked nervously.

He opened the door for them. Hermione stepped in and sank onto the sofa, and Ron followed her.

Harry shut the door, conjured himself a chair opposite them and sat down.

"How did you know I was here?" he asked.

"We asked Hagrid," said Hermione promptly. "Don't worry, we were careful," she added when Harry opened his mouth to protest. "We pretended we just wanted to talk about old times."

Harry nodded, his chest tight. Thinking about the Order was still painful.

"Harry, I am so sorry…" said Hermione, noticing the expression cross his face.

"I'm all right, Hermione," he said. He knew he wasn't.

"What happened, Harry?" said Ron. "When we didn't meet you in the common room, we got worried."

He told them. When he related Dumbledore's declaration of a coup, Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.

"So that's why he's doing it," said Ron when he'd finished. "We thought it might be something like that."

"What's been going on since I left?" asked Harry.

"Nothing really, yet," said Ron. "He's done a good job covering up, so hardly anyone knows there's anything wrong. At least until the _Daily Prophet_ comes out tomorrow."

"He went to the _Prophet?_" said Harry.

"And the Ministry. He told us so. He's already created a cover story."

"Everyone just knows what Dumbledore's been telling them," said Hermione darkly. "All about you becoming the next _Dark Lord_," she added contemptuously.

"I already knew that," said Harry quickly. She nodded.

"The Order's pretty much in his pocket," Hermione continued. "Everyone's really scared, Harry. Dumbledore brought in a bunch of wizards to run the Order."

"Nasty gits," said Ron.

"They act like Death Eaters," said Hermione. "We didn't have a choice but to listen to them. Dumbledore's put a lot of restrictions on the Order. I don't think he wants to give you a chance to talk to them."

"Can any of them be trusted?" Harry asked hopefully.

"I think so," said Hermione. "But it doesn't matter, anyway. We can't get to them. Everyone's been confined to Grimmauld Place unless they have jobs or are going on missions. Dumbledore's told the Ministry you tried to kill him, so you can't be seen in public. There's no way you can contact anyone, and once they realize we're gone we won't be able to talk to anyone, either."

Harry nodded, and then grimaced in frustration. He couldn't think of anything that Dumbledore hadn't thought of first. How had he messed up this badly? Dumbledore knew everything about him!

"_Why_ did this happen?" Hermione cried. "Why couldn't we see what he was doing?" She put her head in her hands. "Oh, what are we going to _do?_"

Harry was at a loss. "I don't know, Hermione." He took a deep breath. "But…I can't get you two involved. It's between me and Dumbledore."

"Don't be stupid, Harry, we're already involved," snapped Hermione. "We aren't going back there. We had to break out of Grimmauld Place just to get away!"

"_What?"_ said Harry, aghast. He looked around at Ron.

"Well, yeah," said his friend. "We had to get Ginny to distract Dumbledore's goons while we made a break for it. She wasn't too chuffed about it, either."

"How come she stayed behind?"

"It was bad enough telling Mum we were leaving," said Ron. "She got…upset. She wouldn't let Ginny leave at all."

Harry, who had seen Molly Weasley when she was upset, nodded vigorously.

"We're not leaving, Harry," said Ron stubbornly. "To the end, remember?"

Harry looked at their determined faces and nodded. "I know," he said. He grinned at them. "Thanks."


End file.
